We all know what Giants and Eagles fans have in common, right? They all hate the Cowboys, of course.

My disdain for "America's Team" goes back to the Franklin Field era in the late 60's when I was flying as a St. Joe's Hawk.

I'll never forget the game when Timmy Brown returned both a punt and a kickoff for a TD and Joe Scarpatti stole the ball out of Dan Reeves hands to seal an upset win over the dreaded Cowboys.  And, I'll never forgive Lee Roy Jordan smashing Brown in the teeth with his forearm, which required some serious dental work for #22.

To me Don Meredith was not so "Dandy" and Bob Lilly was no flower. And I'm sure I was not alone in my thoughts.
 
Fast forward to '76 when I made the jump from the Vet Nosebleeds to the Eagles sidelines for my first game in the NFL. The Dream Come True became an instant nightmare as I was forced to come to grips with the team I despise the most. What do I do in the 120-degree heat on the smelly turf at Texas Stadium? I stand in awe of their "reverence" and was so nervous I couldn't breathe and had a serious case of vertigo.

They even had the gall to put the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders within breathing room of our bench and I was a total wreck. No wonder I froze like a "deer in the headlights" like the movie suggested and got smashed in the mouth. A quick "come to Jesus" meeting with Coach Vermeil on the bench brought me to my senses and I actually had a decent game in spite of a loss.
 
Indelibly burned into my mind was a game we had in Dallas in '78 when my roommate, Denny Franks, and I flew our fathers down for the game as a Christmas present (see picture). It was the Roger Staubach, Tony Dorsett, Too Tall Jones and Tom Landry era and the third year into Coach Vermeil's tenure with the Eagles. Back then you could cut a guy … which meant you could block a player below the waist. My target on a kickoff return was linebacker Bob Bruenig. I got the angle and blew him up but his knee drove into my right shoulder and I wound up with a third degree AC (acromioclavicular) shoulder separation. I went into the game with a second separation degree but what the heck. So, I'm writhing on the turf and two hulking figures, Too Tall Jones & Harvey Martin, are looming over me, laughing, taunting me to get up.
 
"Hey Rocky, you out for the count or what" they laughed and it was then that I remembered my Dad was in the stands and I jumped up and ran to our bench. As the trainers are tending to me I get hit in the back of the head with a rubber chicken (a sick version of a plucked Eagle) that was thrown by Whistlin' Ray, an even sicker guy dressed as a Cowboy … with a broomstick as his horse. Nice.

I got five rows into the stands as I lost it totally and went after him and luckily got no fine from the NFL.
 
Well of course we got our revenge two years later as we beat the heck out of them at the frozen Vet on the way to The Super Bowl. By that time my shoulders gave way and I was "retired" but thanks to my teammates I finally felt vindicated.
 
I'm hoping that today's players are feeling the emotion we felt back then. It is those kind of rivalries that make sports so special. Matchups like the Yankees vs. Red Sox, Michigan vs. Ohio State, or USA vs. USSR that make your juices flow.

Well the "Boys" are in town this Sunday and mine will be overflowing. I'd give anything to put the helmet on one more time for the greatest rivalry in Philly Sports.

I just don't like them.